


The Anti-Root of All Evil

by thedevilchicken



Category: Monkey Island
Genre: Forced Orgasm, In-Jokes, M/M, Not Serious, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape, Silly, Stuck in a wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 11:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11508795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: That's the second biggest prehensile zombie penis I've ever seen!





	The Anti-Root of All Evil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cephalopod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cephalopod/gifts).



He'd been in worse situations, Guybrush told himself. Like the time the giant squid attached itself to the governor's mansion 'cause it turned out it found the marquee they'd put up for the garden party strangely sexy, when the piranha poodles got into the Scumm Bar's grog supply with truly terrifying consequences, or the day he realized the room Elaine told him he wasn't meant to go into was filled entirely with _porcelain_. 

He'd been in worse situations, but that wasn't to say the one he was in was anywhere close to great. He'd gotten himself stuck and no amount of squirming like a lithe little sea-eel had gotten him free again, so there he was, stuck, and not even Murray for company. Then again, he guessed getting stuck kinda made sense considering just how much crap he'd currently got stowed in his pants. 

The real problem was _where_ he'd gotten stuck. It couldn't've been the serving hatch in Blondebeard's Chicken Shoppe where at least he could've picked up a Bucket-O-Booty with a side of ipecac slaw while he waited for a daring rescue from his Plunder Bunny. It couldn't've been the cannon at the Fettucini Brothers' circus (so he wouldn't've gotten fired out of it, _again_ ). Nope, it had to be a neatly-sawed hole in the locked door of LeChuck's cabin, in the ship moored in lava inside the fricking giant monkey head beneath Monkey Island. Of course it did. He shouldn't've needed to Get Ahead in Navigating to see that coming. 

"Well, well, well," LeChuck said. "Look what we have here." 

"A three-headed monkey?" Guybrush replied, not particularly hopefully. 

"Honestly, a three-headed monkey would probably have just stolen the key." 

Guybrush raised his brows. "It was dangling over a vat of hyper-distilled super-grog," he pointed out. "I leaned over it and it ate half my cutlass! I mean, okay, so it turned my cutlass into this handy saw..."

"Your lily-liver when it comes to noxious chemicals is a serious obstacle to your success," LeChuck told him. "Thus your current predicament." And he gave Guybrush's backside a brief slap to punctuate his point. Guybrush grimaced, mostly because he could guess where this was going. He'd gotten himself into it _again_. Of course, last time LeChuck had been a Demon Pirate with uncomfortably fiery appendages and this time he was somehow just a zombie again, so he figured thank Kaflu for small mercies. 

He'd been in worse situations, but that wasn't to say he was going to enjoy it any more than he usually did. 

He felt LeChuck unbuckling his belt for him, and there wasn't a whole lot he could do to stop him since his hands were pinned there by his sides. He felt LeChuck pull down his pants for him by the lip of his roomy pockets. There must've been a window open 'cause he felt the lava thermals toasty-warm against his buttcheeks before LeChuck's disconcertingly prehensile zombie penis wiggled its way down against his hole. He'd got some gunk in a pot that smelled kinda like LeChuck had been melting down the tremendous yak's wax lips and he slathered it between his cheeks with his wiggly zombie fingers and really, that was kinda gross. Considering the things he'd done over the years, Guybrush figured that was saying something. 

LeChuck pushed into him, and maybe it wasn't as bad as the last time (okay, so the tonic he'd drunk beforehand had made him conveniently non-flammable, but that didn't mean he'd _liked_ it), and maybe it wasn't as bad as the time before that (LeChuck was a ghost again back then and the non-corporeality had been kinda disconcerting for the both of them), but that wasn't to say he enjoyed it. 

LeChuck's weird zombie cock wiggled around till it was tickling his prostate with every single thrust and then LeChuck unlocked the cabin door - Guybrush thought he caught a faint whiff of noxious grog on the key as he did so - and he pulled it open with Guybrush still dangling there unceremoniously in the middle of it. He reached around and clamped one hand over Guybrush's smart mouth and the wiggly zombie fingers of his other hand wrapped around Guybrush's cock and stroked, tickling the head and cupping his balls and stroking the shaft at the exact same time because no, _that_ wasn't creepy. Not at all.

Usually, he just hung on and waited for LeChuck to finish, 'cause inevitably his stupid undead brain turned even stupider once he was done and that was when Guybrush's dazzling intellect could bring on his daring escape. He'd been in worse situations, after all, like the time he'd challenged Carla to a duel but all he'd got to fight her with was a rubber chicken with a pulley in the middle. But LeChuck thrust into him, all squirming and weird, and something got all stirred up in Guybrush that wasn't just the cannibals' tofu curry that he'd had for lunch. Oh God, oh sweet voodoo goddess, he felt his cock start to stiffen in a way it never had before. LeChuck's wiggly fingers were just too much. Or maybe it was the tofu curry; once they'd popped in their secret ingredient, it'd been _really_ good. 

LeChuck groaned, his cock making Guybrush see stars. LeChuck moaned, his fingers on Guybrush's currently less-than-private parts making him shiver and tense. Guybrush shuddered. LeChuck grunted. Guybrush grumbled. And LeChuck came and Guybrush came with a surprise-disgusted muttered _papapishu!_ and as LeChuck's hips thrust up against him one last time, even harder than before, he caught against something deep inside one of Guybrush's voluminous pockets.

The takeout carton Lemonhead had given him for the trip back home burst all over LeChuck's wiggly-bearded face. He melted with a hideous shriek, and, minus one hefty takeout carton, Guybrush found that he could wriggle free. When he pulled up his pants, only LeChuck's beard was left, still wiggling on the floor in a mess of spicy tofu; Guybrush picked it up between his thumb and forefinger, and he _didn't_ put it in his pants. He tossed it out of the wide open window straight into the lava instead. Not that he thought that would stop the ghost-zombie-demon pirate LeChuck, but he figured maybe it'd slow him down a little. And it kinda served him right for making a nice normal guy like Guybrush Threepwood, Mighty Pirate, enjoy all that wiggling. 

Guybrush returned to the shore to his crew of scurvy sea-dogs, and, LeChuck once again defeated and the Caribbean safe from danger (well, for the time being, at least), they all set sail back home. 

It turned out voodoo anti-root worked really well in curry. It also worked really well on zombies.


End file.
